


Kiss You Much Better

by Laedes



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-23
Updated: 2014-11-23
Packaged: 2018-02-26 17:59:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2661230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laedes/pseuds/Laedes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Coda for the end of 3x05: “The Sins of My Caretaker”. Since Mickey can’t very well walk all the way back to his house, Ned gives him (and Ian) a ride. Awkwardness and undiscussed jealousy ensue. Ian gets more kisses from Mickey.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kiss You Much Better

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on Tumblr [http://laedes.tumblr.com/post/103313380273/kiss-you-much-better-ian-mickey-1-5k-t-coda-for].

“I’m just going to get Mickey home,” Ian said. “I’ll be back later, okay?”

“Okay,” Fiona replied. She gave his arm a little rub and a squeeze, then stepped back inside the house, closing the front door behind her.

Ian jogged down the stairs and across the street to where Ned’s car was parked. Ned was already behind the wheel, waiting, motor idling, while Mickey’s cousin was helping Mickey get settled in the back of the car.

“You okay there?” Ian asked, watching as Mickey, grunting and grimacing, tried to find a more or less comfortable way to lie down on his stomach in the cramped space of the car.

“Yeah," Mickey huffed. “Just get in and let's go already.”

Mickey's cousin stepped away to let Ian get into the passenger seat. Ian gave him a thankful nod – there wasn't enough room in the car for four people with Mickey taking up the backseat. Mickey's cousin would have to get home on his own.

They drove off. Ian craned his neck to try and get a look at Mickey but Ned distracted him, putting a hand on his thigh just above the knee and squeezing lightly.

"He's going to be fine," Ned said. "Plus, I gave him the good drugs. He practically won't feel a thing once they kick in."

"Yeah, thanks," Ian said. He tried to steal a look at Mickey in the rear-view mirror but he could only just see the top of his head and the line of his back. He wondered if Mickey could see Ned's hand on Ian's leg. Probably, yes. He shifted slightly in his seat, suddenly uncomfortable.

Ned noticed, of course. He glanced at Ian, but Ian didn't turn his head to look back at him, staring at the road instead, jaw tense. Ned kept his hand on Ian's leg a few more seconds, his thumb rubbing up and down the side of Ian's thigh, seemingly waiting for some kind of response. None came. He removed his hand and put it back on the steering wheel.

They pulled up in front of Mickey's house a few minutes later. Ian helped Mickey out of the car and pulled him up against his side, putting an arm around his waist to hold him up, Mickey's own arm draped over Ian's shoulders.

"Here," Ned said, leaning over the seat to hold something out to Ian. It was a small bottle of pills. "He can take a couple more during the night if he needs it."

Ian's fingers brushed against Ned's as he took the bottle. The gesture was half thanks, half apology. Things with Mickey were complicated but Ned was a good guy – well, at least, he was good to Ian, and as a corollary, whether either of them liked it or not, he was good to Mickey.

Ned's car disappeared down the street and Ian and Mickey made their way to the house. Mickey didn't say anything but Ian could feel the almost painful tightening of his grasp around Ian's shoulders as they climbed the front steps. He knocked at the door. Mandy answered almost immediately.

"He's fine," Ian said. "He just got..."

"Shot in the ass, yeah. I heard. Jesus, Mickey."

She grabbed her brother's other arm and together she and Ian brought Mickey into his bedroom. He protested on the way, reminding them both that he wasn't a fucking invalid, but Mandy shut him up quickly. Something about how Mickey should stop complaining until he could walk straight again. Ian couldn't quite suppress a smile at that and Mickey glared at him as he and Mandy lowered him onto his bed.

"Thanks, Mandy," Ian said.

"Yeah." She stood there for a beat, hands on her hips, watching Mickey settle down on his uninjured side. Apparently satisfied that her brother was as okay as anyone could be in that situation, she gave Ian a little nod and turned on her heel.

"If you need anything, don't bother, I'm not getting up for your sorry ass," she told Mickey on her way out.

Mickey flipped her off, though he knew as well as Ian that Mandy didn't mean a word of that, but she had already closed the door behind her anyway. Ian took the bottle of pills out of his pocket to put it on Mickey's bedside table.

"Ned said..."

"Yeah, I know what Ned said. I was there, remember? Or maybe you were too busy letting the good doctor feel you up to notice?"

Ian cringed. Yeah, so, Mickey definitely saw the touching. He was looking up at Ian with that expression on his face, that odd mix of anger, disgust and insecurity that contorted his features whenever the subject of Ned came up. Ian wanted to call it jealousy – and Mickey certainly seemed to be challenging Ian to do just that – but Ian knew better than to try and navigate that minefield.

"Anyway," Mickey added, "I know the drill. It's not the first time I got shot. Probably won't be the last either."

"Yeah but in the ass? Come on, man."

"Fuck you, Gallagher."

Ian smiled and sat down on the edge of the bed, gently, so as not to jostle him. He glanced down. Mickey was wearing a pair of Ian's sweatpants which Ian had fished out of the laundry for him, since Mickey's own jeans had been reduced to a torn, bloody mess.

It was the kind of stupid shit that Mickey would probably tell him off for but there was something about Mickey wearing his clothes that Ian couldn't quite get enough of. It made him feel a little possessive and, if he was being honest, a little turned on too – Ian knew for a fact that Mickey wasn't wearing anything underneath those sweatpants and the soft, worn down material wasn't leaving much to the imagination.

"What are you looking at?" Mickey asked. "I got _shot_ ," he repeated emphatically as though he were talking to a particularly dumb child, "you're not getting anywhere near my ass tonight."

"I know," Ian replied quickly. "There's other stuff we can do, though."

"Yeah? Like what?"

Mickey's expression was amused and incredulous at the same time. Ian's gaze slid down to his crooked grin and he thought – not for the first time that day – about Mickey's kiss in the van. He had only pressed his lips against Ian's own for a couple of seconds but it had been enough to make Ian feel as though his whole body had been electrified. _Mickey Milkovich kissed me!_ That single thrilling thought had suddenly filled him completely, leaving his brain buzzing and his skin tingling for minutes afterwards.

Ian didn't want this to remain a one-time thing. He wanted it to happen again and again, as many times as possible, until kissing Ian came to Mickey as naturally as breathing. So he put one one hand on the bed to steady himself and leaned down, not too quickly, but steadily, until his lips brushed against Mickey's.

He pulled back a little. Mickey looked a bit stunned but it didn't seem as though he were about to clock Ian round the head for it so Ian leaned down again and gave him a second, slightly longer kiss.

"What was that for?" Mickey blurted.

"I don't know," Ian replied, shrugging. "It's just a kiss. Isn't it something we do now?"

His intention had been to go for casual there, as though it didn't matter to him one way or another what Mickey's reply would be. As though it wouldn't break him if Mickey said no, as though he didn't have his heart in his throat just thinking about that possibility. Given the way Mickey was staring at him, though, Ian knew that he had failed. Some desperation must have crept through his words, or shown in his face, and no doubt Mickey had picked up on it. But there was nothing to do about it now.

"You're such a girl, Gallagher," Mickey said at last. "C'mere."

He grabbed Ian by the shoulder and pulled him down for another kiss. Although it lasted perhaps a handful of seconds longer than their previous kisses, for Ian this one seemed to go on forever.

Mickey kept his eyes closed and barely moved his lips but the feeling of Mickey's hot mouth under his, of his breath against his cheek, of his fingers digging into Ian's shoulder was more than enough. The only times he had ever experienced anything close to this were when they were fucking and Ian had his face buried in Mickey's hair or in the crook of Mickey's neck, breathing him in, letting the smell and sound and feel of him overload his senses.

Sure, Kash had kissed him with more passion; Ned had kissed him with more finesse; but Mickey was successfully proving that, for all his clumsiness and restraint, he could still kiss Ian much better.

"You look like an idiot," Mickey told Ian a few minutes later just as Ian was about to leave. Mickey's mouth and cheeks were flushed, his hair mussed where Ian had cupped the back of his head. "Stop grinning so much."

Ian only grinned wider. He was still grinning on his way home, purposefully delaying the moment when he would have to stop and deal with all the shit that was waiting for him there. In the meantime, there was that kiss in the van to think about, and the kisses at Mickey's, and then, of course, all the other kisses that were possibly to come.


End file.
